


The Origami Killer

by Leuco



Category: Heavy Rain, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crossover, Depression, Drug Addiction, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leuco/pseuds/Leuco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson joins Private Detective Gregory Lestrade, journalist Molly Hooper and Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes in a race against time to save his son from the twisted serial murderer known as the Origami Killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [BBC Sherlock: Heavy Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/21960) by y0do. 



> This is a Sherlock/Heavy Rain crossover. You do not have to have played Heavy Rain or even know what it is to read this fic. I have just taken Sherlock characters and thrown them into the Heavy Rain story. 
> 
> A thousand thanks to my beta imogenfere for suffering through the angst even though she hates it.

The man groaned sleepily and rubbed his groggy eyes, squinting against the sunlight filtering through the curtains. He rolled onto his back and looked at the empty pillow and crumpled sheets beside him. He must have slept in. _He must have slept in!_ Bolting upright, he threw the sheets away from him. His head spun from lurching to his feet so suddenly and he stumbled. Clearing the vertigo with a groan and a shake of his mussed, blonde hair, he padded swiftly downstairs in just a pair of pyjama pants. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he paused on the staircase and folded his arms on the banister. Downstairs was lit with sunlight that bounced off of the lazily turning paper stars and streamers strung from the ceiling. A large, silver banner was pinned to the wall. "Happy Birthday" it read in large rainbow lettering. On the table underneath were stacks of paper plates and plastic cutlery accompanied by small party bags and towers of party hats. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought of his wife setting up the affair by herself. Hopefully the kids had helped without much fuss.  
Continuing down the stairs and over to the table, he checked the answering machine with its insistently blinking red light. He pressed a button and the soft voice of his wife twirled around him and spilled out into the quiet room. "Morning, sleepyhead. Remember what day it is?" She teased. "I didn't want to wake you since you were working so late last night so I went ahead and set everything up. I took the boys ou-" she was interrupted by a pair of voices in the background yelling to him and squealing and laughing. The woman chuckled and continued. "I took them out shopping. We'll be home at around eleven. Love you."  
There was a beep signalling the end of the message and the man smiled. He glanced over at the round clock in the kitchen. Almost ten thirty.  
***  
The shower hissed and sputtered before releasing a steady spray of water. He stepped out to give the water time to heat and shook the liquid from his hand. He leaned on the bathroom counter to peer into the mirror. Pushing his fingers through his dirty-blonde hair, he decided that he could probably do with a trim some time soon. Then he leaned in closer across the sink and frowned. He inspected the slight bags under his eyes, the thin lines across the forehead and that pug nose of his that so matched his short yet well built stature. His blue eyes trailed down to the circular patch of raised skin near his collarbone. The neat scar where the bullet had entered was nothing compared to the mess of the exit through his shoulder. This mark is what had cost him his career and sent him packing home to London with a psychosomatic limp and vivid night terrors. Thankfully the limp had left with extensive and frustrating therapy but unfortunately the plague of bullet riddled and blood spattered dreams remained. His thoughts were interrupted by a warm waft of steam curling across his bicep and beckoning him to the shower like a lover.  
***  
When the front door opened to a beautiful blonde woman with armfuls of shopping bags and two loud and excited boys, the man was sitting at the kitchen bench with a half eaten piece of toast on his plate and a warm cup of tea in his hand. He swallowed the bite of jam and toast he had been lazily chewing and put his cup down to take half of the bags from his wife's arms. "Thank you, John," she murmured as she planted a kiss on his cheek. They placed the bags on the counter and he shoved the rest of the toast in his mouth and put his plate in the dishwasher.  
"Dad!" The ten year old grinned as he tugged on the sleeve of his father's jumper.  
"Ohh! My birthday boy! How old are you now, Jason? I forget," John teased as he picked up his son and pulled him into his arms. "Dad!" Jason laughed and flailed his legs, trying to wiggle free. John put him down but the boy just wrapped his arms around his waist. He suddenly pushed himself away and looked up with a mischievous smile. "Come look at what Shaun and I got!" John looked over at the woman who just shooed him out with a smile and a flick of her wrist as she unpacked the groceries.  
***  
The blade swung towards him but he jumped out of the way at the last second. He brought his own foam sword down in retaliation, bopping the boy on the head. Jason laughed and rubbed his head then he roared playfully and charged forward. The purple sword bent as it pressed against his father's stomach. "Oh!" John yelped. "Oh! You got me!" He fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. He reached out a shaking hand towards the smaller boy standing timidly on the edge of the battle. "Shaun, you must... avenge me!" He made a _'bleh!'_ noise and fell face first into the grass. Shaun giggled at his father's antics and grabbed the fallen sword. Jason squealed in delight of his victory. The glass door to the backyard slid open and the woman poked her head out "Come on boys, we're going out," she called. "Put your shoes on."  
John flopped over onto his back and looked up at her. "You just got back," he stated.  
"We're taking him to pick out his present before the party," she whispered, brushing a lock of blonde hair from her eyes.  
"I love you, Mary," John sighed as he pushed himself into a seated position.  
She laughed. "What's gotten into you? Come on, get up. You're sitting in the dirt."  
***  
"I'm taking Shaun in here for a sec," she said.  
"Right, okay," he agreed. Mary took her son's arm and ushered him into the store.  
John looked over his shoulder at Jason who was beginning to wander off. "Jason, stay with me," he said. His son must not have heard him over the din of the shopping centre because he kept walking though the crowd. "Jason," John said sternly, dodging his way around people to catch up with his son. He placed a protective hand on Jason's back. "You have to keep with me, all right?"  
"Dad, can I have one?" Jason asked, looking up at him.  
"What?"  
The fair haired boy pointed at a man with a small cart. A mass of balloons bobbed against each other. "A balloon. Can I have one? Please, dad. Pleeease?" He begged.  
"Yeah, all right," John agreed. He led his son towards the cart.  
"Which one would you like?" The older man asked, stooping down to level with Jason.  
"A red one!"  
The man fished through the web of strings, tugging here and there until he finally freed a red balloon and brought it down into the boys hand.  
"Thanks!"  
The man straightened himself and looked to John. "One pound."  
John fished through his front trouser pockets to no avail. He looked over his shoulder. Jason was wandering off again. "Jason, wait for me!" He called and apologised to the vendor who was looking rather bored. He finally drew the coin from his coat pocket and dropped it in the man's waiting hand. He turned on his heel. Where was Jason? He glanced around urgently. Where was he? How far could he have gotten. He felt a tug on his sleeve. Shaun. He looked up at Mary. "I got Shaun some shoes. You forgot again."  
John ignored her, still looking around frantically. Panic rose in his chest. "John... Where's Jason?"  
"He... I..." He ran a hand through his hair and licked his lip nervously. "I just turned around and he was gone."  
"You lost him?!" Mary yelped incredulously.  
"No. Hang on, he can't have gone far. I'll find him."  
***  
"Jason!" John called as he forced himself though the crowd. He was moving as fast as he could through such a tightly packed space. People shot dirty looks as he pushed them out of his way. He caught sight of a red balloon and hurried towards it. "Jason." He grabbed the boys shoulder and turned him around. The look of confusion in the young boy's eyes made John's stomach drop. It wasn't him. Shit. John blurted an apology to the kid's mum who turned to snatch him away. He threw himself against the railing and looked down to the floor below. A glimpse of shiny red. He pushed a man out of the way of the escalator and ran down the metal stairs. "Jason!" He called over and over. Panic was bubbling up from his stomach. His ears were ringing. He couldn't see the balloon anymore. He ran out of the doors. Jason. Across the road.  
He gave an alleviated sigh. The boy had his hands and face pressed to a shop window. "Jason!" John called to him. The child turned and a smile spread across his face at the sight of his father. He waved and ran towards him. Across the road. "Jason, wait!"  
The car had sped around the corner and hadn't seen the child running towards it. John lurched forward to his son. He dove towards the boy who had frozen in shock on the road, grabbing him and wrapping himself around the small body.  
The screech of tyres.  
The sudden fire roaring through his body as the vehicle struck him.  
The scream of his own child silenced by the sickening crack of a skull hitting asphalt.  
A broken voice as though underwater. A woman's voice.  
Darkness.

_"Jason! Oh god no, Jason!"_


	2. Chapter 2

Rain pattered down. The droplets fractured as they hit the pavement around his feet. John leaned against the passenger door of the car and waited. The crowd of children clinging to parents under umbrellas eventually dissipated. And then there was Shaun. The boy had his backpack slung over one shoulder and John took it from him. "Have you got everything?" He asked.   
Shaun looked at down at his feet with tired eyes. "Yeah."  
As usual, they drove in uncomfortable silence.   
***  
John scraped his muddy shoes on the old welcome mat as he unlocked the front door. Upon glancing at his feet a sliver of white caught his eye. He knelt and pulled the paper free from under the mat. An envelope. He turned it over in his hands. There was no return address. Or any other marking for that matter. He stood, pushed open the door and tossed the unopened letter onto the foyer table. Shaun pushed past him and flopped onto the couch. He turned the TV on to his regular show and animated pirates yelled and clashed cutlasses onscreen. John hesitated for a moment before following his son into the lounge. Shaun pulled his legs closer to himself to allow his father space to sit down but he didn't say anything. John cleared his throat. "How was school?"   
Shaun simply grunted in response.   
"Ah." John internally cursed himself. Why was it so sodding hard to talk to his own son? "Do you want to play a game or something?" He tried.  
"No," Shaun mumbled. "I think I'll just watch this."   
John recognised the episode. It was a repeat. A pang of rejection fluttered through his gut. The silence dragged out and a dull ringing grew in John's ears. Shaun coughed and John looked over at him. "Are you sick?"  
Shaun shook his head. "I'm alright." A sniffle, however, told otherwise.   
"I'll go find something for you," John said. Shaun didn't argue. He pushed himself up from the couch and padded past stacks of packed cardboard boxes to the bathroom. He fished around in the cupboard under the sink and retrieved a small and dusty bottle of cough syrup. Upon standing up, John was face to face with his reflection. He badly needed to shave. The bags under his eyes were more prominent and his face looked drawn. He thought of all the nights he had spent late at the surgery. And all the other nights where he crawled into bed only to either be evaded by sleep until the sun stung his eyes or to pass out from exhaustion to another realm of night terrors more monstrous than ever before. He wasn't sure which was worse. John ran a hand through his hair. It was brittle and much longer than he liked. He sighed and decided he would deal with it later.   
***  
"Do you want something to eat?" John asked as Shaun pulled his homework from his backpack and spread the worksheets on the kitchen table. "Yeah," the boy said as he climbed onto the chair.   
John glanced around the kitchen. Bollocks, he'd forgotten to go grocery shopping again. After his row with the chip and pin machine he had been putting off going back there. He pulled open the fridge - bare - and rustled around in the crisper - also bare. What he did find was starting to go mouldy. He glanced at the clock. Damn, all the shops would be shut now. He checked the freezer. There were bags of frozen peas and corn, a frozen loaf of bread and one microwave meal left. He pulled the plastic box out and gazed down at the cover. "Roast lamb it is, then," he announced as he pulled back the paper lid and set it in the microwave. He made a mental note to go shopping in the morning.   
***   
"Dad!" Shaun called from his bed.   
"Yeah, bud?" John poked his head in through the door. Shaun pouted and pulled his blanket up around his face. "I don't have my bear."   
"Where'd you leave it?"  
Shaun frowned. "I don't know."  
John looked at the small army of plush animals sharing the bed with the blonde-haired boy. "What about all of those?"  
"No, I need him. I can't sleep without him," Shaun whined. John rubbed the bridge of his nose. His head ached with a dull buzz and he really just wanted to go to bed. "Alright," he sighed. "I'll have a look."  
***  
It was resting against the door of the garage. The tipped over animal looked so pitiful in the dark and dust on its lonesome. John picked it up and brushed the dirt free of its flattened fur. Oh. It had been Jason's bear. Well, Shaun had planned on giving it to his brother for his birthday, two years before. He didn't get the chance. Jason had died in hospital on the night of the accident. John felt a pang in his chest as his heart broke just that little bit more. He had slipped into a coma soon after the vehicle had shattered his body and he hadn't been there for his own son's final breaths. Did he regret throwing himself in front of that car? No, but sometimes he wished that it had turned out the other way. He wished that it had been his head cracked open against the road. Having been an army doctor, John was no stranger to survivor's guilt. He often blamed himself for the deaths of many soldiers - friends. But this was different. This was infinitely worse. It ate away to his core and kept on going. Mary had left John before he even had a chance to wake up six months later and Shaun had grown distant. John couldn't shake the feeling that his own son hated him - blamed him for his brother's death. He wouldn't be surprised. Mary had blatantly stated - screamed - on many alcohol fuelled outbursts that it was all John's fault. He was supposed to keep an eye on him - look after him. How could she trust him with Shaun? How could she trust him at all?   
How could he trust himself?  
He ran a finger along the glass eye of the bear, clearing it of a thin layer of dust.  
Maybe if he had held Jason tighter, maybe if he had positioned himself differently, maybe then Jason wouldn't have died. Maybe it was his fault.   
Another dull throb of pain through his head brought him back from his whirling thoughts. He shut the garage door behind him and tromped up the stairs. Shaun stirred as John opened his bedroom door and light spilt in.   
"Thank you," Shaun murmured sleepily as he took the bear from his father. He curled himself around it and turned to face the wall. John kissed his son's head and shut the door.  
****  
The world lurched and his head rushed. He gasped and pressed his back against the wall. He clutched desperately at his head. The pain. It shot through his skull in bursts. Like a knife. A bullet even. He let out his breath and panted. His lungs only continued to constrict from the pain. But his head. His god damn head. He pressed harder and slid down the wall. The room around him spun and leapt up to him. A raft in a storm would have been more pleasant. The ringing in his ears. The shrill, deafening white noise. His own gasps sounded distant. His vision tunnelled. Not again. Darkness.  
***  
The rain was cool against his face and he welcomed it. Wait, rain? Why was he outside? He blinked. He must have blacked out again. He cursed and bit back worry. It was getting more frequent. He looked around. Where was he? It was dark. Really dark. Only street lamps speckled light through the drizzling rain. There were no lights in the houses around him. He pulled his hand free from his jacket pocket to check a watch, but instead opened his hand to a crumpled shape. An origami dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter a month ago and didn't post it as I wanted to finish writing chapter three first (which never happened.)   
> Most likely this fic will be postponed indefinitely with no promises of it ever being finished.


End file.
